Page 61 of The Last Safe Place

“Then the conductor won’t know it’s no longer valid.”

Michaela turned deathly pale. “I can’t do that.”

“Of course you can, or do you want to be late for our appointment and miss getting your passport? Because then you’ll be staying in Germany.” Leonore hooked an arm through Michaela’s and pulled her in the direction of the S-Bahn. “Here goes nothing.”

“Amen to that.”

When they arrived at the door of Gestapo headquarters – stars in place on their jackets – the rest of the group was already waiting. Leonore’s heart fluttered at the sight of Lieutenant Ruben.

“Finally! We thought you weren’t coming,” someone greeted them.

“We’re all here.” Lieutenant Ruben headed for the main door.

Entering the huge entrance hall with its marble floor, a chill ran through Leonore’s limbs, which could only be partially explained by the coolness inside the building. Behind her, the door closed with a loud clack. The finality of the sound made her cringe, and only the reassuring presence of Lieutenant Ruben prevented her from turning on her heel and running away.

“Thank you for coming,” she whispered to him as they ascended the stairs.

He tilted his head, gazing at her kindly. “I wanted to make sure none of you got arrested.”

Again, a shiver ran down her spine, and again she took inordinate pleasure from his presence.

Lieutenant Ruben led the small group into one of the offices, where each of them was handed a passport. Leonore barely dared to breathe as she held the small gray booklet with the inscription “Deutsches Reich Passport” in her hands. Theprinted Imperial Eagle swung its wings upward, almost like a boxer raising his fists to the sky after winning a bout.

It echoed her own feelings: exhilarated, sure of victory and so close to freedom. Despite the bureaucratic hurdles they must still overcome, she was finally holding in her hands the passport that would enable her to cross the border.

She walked – no, floated – down the majestic staircase into the entrance hall which had intimidated her so much just half an hour ago, and out onto the street, where the sun seemed to shine much brighter. Leonore could hardly wait to leave the country.

As she stepped onto the sidewalk in front of Gestapo headquarters, an irrepressible joy bubbled up inside her. She grabbed the passport with both hands, kissed it, then raised her fists in the air, just like the Imperial Eagle’s wings, while she spun on the spot sending a prayer of thanks to heaven.

“Fräulein Vogel, please,” Gerda Seifert admonished her. “That’s not a seemly way to behave in public.”

Leonore didn’t care. She cared about nothing besides the fact that she was allowed to leave the country. She turned one more pirouette before a heavy hand landed on her shoulder and Lieutenant Ruben’s sonorous voice admonished her. “Fräulein Vogel. I understand your enthusiasm, but I must warn you against causing a stir. So much can still go wrong.”

Despite the kindness in his tone, his words had the same effect as a cold shower. Leonore stopped with a guilty expression. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put the operation at risk. I promise to be extremely discreet from now on.”

Herr Lange collected the passports to take to the Swiss embassy for the visa stamp. Herr Seifert looked very pale when he handed over his and his wife’s passports.

“Are you all right, old friend?” Herr Lange asked.

“Yes, of course. It’s just the excitement. It’ll pass in a moment.” Herr Seifert pulled his face into what was probably meant to be a smile, but looked instead as if he was in great pain.

Leonore paid no further attention. The group said their farewells; she and Michaela setting off in one direction, the rest in another.

“I’m worried about Herr Seifert, he seemed very upset,” said Michaela suddenly.

“Understandably. I’m still shaking inside with excitement.”

Michaela shook her head. “That looked more like pain than excitement. I hope it’s nothing serious.”

“You worry too much,” Leonore pulled her friend onward. “Let’s celebrate! Let me buy you a lemonade.”

“But…” Michaela glanced pointedly at her yellow star. “What about our rash?”

“Well, you’ll have to cure that first, after all, you are a doctor.” Leonore laughed, looked over her shoulder and pulled the star from her jacket before urging Michaela, “Come on, take off that jacket and hang it over your arm.”

30

Michaela had just returned from an exhausting day of home visits. She’d barely had time to put her aching feet up on a cushion before the doorbell rang.